


The Blade Shaved Smooth

by chewysugar



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Grinding, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: Dick would like to say that he wouldn't have paid for the strip show and the lap dance had he known Jason was that night's entertainment. But that would have made him a liar.





	The Blade Shaved Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this today while listening to some old school Britney. Needed to get the putrid aftertaste of Joker out of my senses.

If this wasn’t the very definition of a predicament, then Dick didn’t know what was. In fact, it bypassed general understanding on the word and turned itself into a two-way street of a pre_dick_ament—namely that it involved he himself, Dick Grayson, and his actual dick.

Smoke and shadows enfolded the club in a way that they only could in such a place. Lights flashed on the stage in hues of magenta and purple, bathing the platform in royal heliotrope that one would have thought Prince Harry was expected. The music pounding from the speakers was Renaissance Britney—the might of the queen at the height of her comeback, intoxicating as the half empty cocktail on Dick’s table.

“..._every time they turn the lights down...just wanna go that extra mile for you_...”

“Goddamn.” Tim, sitting beside him, watched the performer as their silhouette slunk from the shadows like a panther. Sure, Tim wasn’t of age to be here—but Dick had wanted to treat the both of them to a nice bout of steam release. He’d thought that _Lux_, the club they’d settled on, would have the usual retinue of dexterous women. But he and Tim hadn’t found out until they’d taken their seats, ordered a drink each and paid for a lap dance for Dick that tonight’s entertainment was of the magic variety—magic, Dick had learned, as in Mike.

“..._we can get down like there’s no one around, they keep on watchin_’...”

The man was tall, built not like a brick house but more like a powerful cat—all sinewy strength and liquid steel. He stayed in the shadow part of the stage for just a moment longer. But even before the chorus hit—even before the lights struck him full—even before he turned around, Dick knew exactly who it was.

Jason smirked. Right at him. He was wearing a leather jacket and dark jeans, and he moved as if the song had been written for him. Then again, since when did Jason Todd not act as if the world were his? He prowled forward, his muscles rippling with rhythm. With a come-hither smile, he dragged the zipper down, slowly, and opened his jacket.

In the other chair, Tim let out a laugh, practically bouncing in his seat. To him, this was an utter ball: Jason Todd, stripping to Britney Spears, wearing a mesh muscle shirt and moving his ass like a hypnotist’s pendulum. Dick hoped his little brother wouldn’t look over. Even with his legs crossed, the odds of hiding the hardness threatening to burst the zip of his pants were next to nil.

“..._gimme gimme more, gimme more, gimme gimme more_...”

Oh, but Jason would give him more. He cast a few looks over his shoulder, those fire blue eyes meeting Dick’s. Regardless of whether or not Dick had paid, Jason probably would have had him in the crosshairs the second he saw him in the audience. He sauntered towards the pole in the center of the stage, and pressed his back into it like a second spine.

Involuntarily, Dick leaned forward in his seat. Jason spread his legs, grasping the pole as he lowered himself to the ground. The strobes caught him at just the right moment, displaying the prominent lump in the front of his jeans.

Feeling his lips go dry, Dick took a swig of liquor. The burn in his throat felt like a snow storm compared the the fire in his groin. He wanted nothing more than to crawl across the stage, throw Jason to the ground and ride him in front of all these people.

“Steady, Romeo.” Tim put a hand on Dick’s chest, and gently pushed him back into his seat. “You paid for the full treatment, God help us all.”

With a mumbled reply, Dick sat back and watched.

“..._you got me on a crazy procession, if you’re on a mission, you got my permission_...”

Jason made a show of writhing around on the platform. Dick was sure the other patrons of _Lux_—mostly women—were going ballistic. But as the song had so sagely put, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room besides them. Oh, Tim was there—but in Dick’s present frame of mind, he registered his little brother as more of the manifestation of temperance than anything. And he would soon shed that presence the same way Jason was now shedding his jeans.

The button slid through the gap; the zipper went down in a prolonged drag of metal against teeth.

“..._we can get down like there’s no one around_...”

Jason smiled—a teethy, devouring thing that made Dick’s cock throb. It was as if he were making a promise in the lyrics, and if he didn’t cash in on it soon, Dick would likely end up in Arkham from the need.

He swaggered forward—less than two feet from the place where Dick and Tim sat. Once more the chorus reached its apex, and Jason wasted no time in flinging his jeans from his body.

Tim let out a wolf whistle, but damn the kid had no idea. Beneath his jeans, Jason had been dancing in something between a jock strap and a thong. Dick had an eyeful of the hardness in the black and red pouch; Jason thrust his hips forward, and Dick nearly lunged to touch, to taste—to have what he wanted. But Jason turned around, and Dick nearly forgot about what lay beneath.

There was no back to the underwear. People might have put Dick Grayson on the list of the Best Asses in America, but they didn’t know Jason Todd. There weren’t many things soft about him, but the globes of his backside could have made bubbles look like basalt.

And it was currently walking away—back to the pole. Fire licked Dick’s insides. Mercy bless him, Tim quickly moved his glass closer to his hands. He needed to steady the need—needed something to stave off the hunger until Jason finally gave him what he’d paid for.

What few acrobatics Jason knew paid off in the performance he put on around that goddamn pole. Had Bruce seen (and the very idea made Dick want to laugh) and he’d have been both impressed and mortified. Poles were made to slide down—not gyrate against. Not hold like a massive cock.

“..._gimme gimme more, gimme more, gimme, gimme more_...”

_Give it to me_, Dick thought, as if telepathy were suddenly a part of his lexicon. _Come back here, and give it to me, Jay_...

Jason hadn’t heard him—because such powers were best saved for the mutants. But the song was nearing its conclusion, and Dick still hadn’t been satisfied. Abandoning the stupid metal stick, Jason dropped to his hands and feet, and crawled across the platform. Every sinew and muscle moved like a tiger’s, and it made Dick’s mouth water.

When he was within a foot, he did a back spring, and Dick nearly screamed in frustration. But Jason had only needed the momentum to stand—the better to walk forward, wrap his legs around Dick’s seat, and insinuate himself onto his lap. Hard length met hard length, the friction achingly sweet through fabric.

Jason ground against him, as if trying to merge into one being. He pressed his lips to Dick’s ear, his voice rough rock salt and nicotine rough. “Bet I can make you nut before the song ends, Dickybird.”

Given the molten feeling in his balls, Dick knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Thank Christ he wore black pants tonight.

“That what you want, Jay?” Dick whispered back. He had an arm around Jason’s waist—he could do whatever the fuck he pleased, given the way this whole thing had transpired. “Want me to walk out of here with my pants all sticky?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

He was going to lose. Jason was giving new definition to the term lap dance. The beat on; the song was almost over. Everything around him disappeared but the sense of heat and a hard body against his. His nerves came undone; he gripped Jason’s shoulder, fingers curling into skin in a way that would have got him banned for life had it been any other person at any other club. But he needed to hold on as he came undone; as his hips bucked into the locus of his and Jason’s body.

“Fuck yeah,” Dick said. “Ah, fuck...”

Jason chuckled—an uncharacteristic, borderline-giggle that would have made Britney proud as a peacock. “And here's me, all hard and dry,” he murmured. “I’ll be back stage. Meet me there, or that sweet ass is history.” Then he stood—he really hadn’t come, and he’d just left Dick a mess in his seat. As the club lost their minds and Jason walked away, Dick came to earth for long enough to realize that he had just been given an open invitation.

He caught Tim’s eye. The kid had a grin on his face to make The Joker look down trod—as if he’d expected this from the start. He glanced once at the stain in the front of Dick’s pants, and shook his head.

“Well,” he said, gesturing to the space where Jason had disappeared to, “go ahead then. I’ll wait.”

As if he’d needed permission anyway. But Dick wanted to be the responsible big brother here, and Tim giving the go-ahead was a green light. Dick got to his feet, crossed the floor, and made for the back stage corridor. He found Jason around a corner that formed the most hidden of all alcoves. Catching sight of Dick, he slipped his thumbs into his jockstrap, and peeled it off.

“Don’t worry, Dickybird,” he said. “This part is free.”

As if he’d needed to say something of the kind. Dick would have drained all the money in the Wayne bank account for this. He strode forward, pressed Jason against the wall, and nipped at the skin of his throat.

“My turn,” he growled. 

**Author's Note:**

> I do so love a nice fade to black, primarily because I've written so much M/M smut that I can't figure out how to make it interesting anymore. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Drop a kudo, comment and bookmark if you enjoyed!


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